


Day 6: Somnophilia

by Folle



Series: Frisky February 2020 [6]
Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Bottom Brahms Heelshire, Dubious Consent, First Time Bottoming, Insomnia, M/M, Riding, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22595851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folle/pseuds/Folle
Summary: For slashthedice's event over on tumblr, Frisky February.Day 6: SomnophiliaBrahms Heelshire x Male s/o
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader
Series: Frisky February 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623325
Kudos: 113





	Day 6: Somnophilia

Brahms wanted you, and he wanted you now.

Which was an issue, because right now you were asleep and he was completely certain that nothing nigh the apocalypse is going to wake you up.

Night after night, you have stayed awake, manically deep cleaning the entire manor. Dusting, vacuuming, steaming the walls, freeing the windows, repainting. Cleaning and tidying and organizing until everything looked brand new.

That didn’t include the outside, but that you could only do during the day. Brahms didn’t deign himself to go outside much, maybe sit on the porch or watch from the window. It would be too easy for someone to see him. Someone probably being Malcolm, he’s the only person these days who decides to make surprise visits ever since his parent… passing.

But he admires your work. Mowing the massive lawn, de-weeding and de-vining, scrubbing the stone clean, power washing the outside of the house, cutting down and disposing of dead trees, entirely ripping up the garden and replanting everything, cleaning the gutters, putting on a new layer of paint on the fence and gate, repaving the walkways.

It is intensive, and despite not getting as much attention, Brahms loves to watch you work shirtless in the yard sweating in the humid British summer sun, muscles flexing.

But you wouldn’t even let him feel you up when you came in for meal time! Not even letting his wrap a hand around your bicep and you flexing! Nothing!

Which led to tantrums and a broken wall, which spurns you on to fixing the house at night.

Brahms quickly learns you have your limits, and if he comes outside, shirtless as well, and helps you out cutting up trees and hauling the new firewood around, you get all touchy. Running your hands along his sweaty, fuzzy chest, which does get Brahms more than one quickie at the backside of the house.

It just might have been worth it to press you up against the side of the house and take you however he like in exchange for manual labor. You seemed to like to ogle Brahms just as much as he did you.

But you weren’t sleeping, at all. There was a nap here and there, maybe laying in bed quietly for a few hours, but for the past week it was go go go. And you didn’t seem to be a fan of this issue.

So here comes Malcolm! The bane of Brahms existence, your knight in shining armor, bearing an new prescription from the doctor in town for different sleeping pills.

You were already wavering on your feet before popping a few pills, and run through Brahms’ night time routine. You wash his hair (and bat away his grabby, soapy hands), dry him off and avoid more grabby hands, distract him with a new pair of pajama pants that are extremely soft, and when that stops being entertaining to him, present him with one of your t-shirt to wear to bed. Then tuck him in the other side of your bed, because he insists on it, and give him a long, sweet goodnight kiss, and give into him pulling you into bed and hugging you to his chest like a teddy bear.

That’s usually when Brahms will try to strike. Since this is the first time past week you were even in bed at the same time as him, he has big plans. Big wonderful plans that involve you bouncing on his cock and screaming his name.

Yet, when Brahms grinds his crotch against your ass, he doesn’t get the usual gasp, moan, or whine from you. No, you _snore_ and roll out of his arms and onto your back.

Of all the-

Brahms redoubles his effort, climbing on top of you and rolling his hip down into yours. He can feel your your chub twitching in interest, but your eyes stay close, and you make a small, content noise. Which is actually… nice.

Brahms is an adaptive man, or at least he considers himself one. He can work around this issue. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s jacked off over your sleeping body, and it probably won’t be the last. But your own budding erection spurs him on in a different direction.

He grabs the lube from the nightstand, and slicks his fingers up. He’s never done this to himself before, or you for that matter. You tended to like to prepare yourself, and well, Brahms tended to top in the heat of things.

He’s seen you do this countless times, watched intently as your finger dissapearered into your ass and stretched yourself open. So Brahms lays on his back, next to you, and gets to work.

It takes a lot longer than you usually do, and he doesn’t quite find his prostate, but Brahms figures it’s good enough. He tugs down your pajama pants - no underwear today it seems - and slicks up your dick. The half formed erection fills up completely while he works you.

Brahms lines you up with his entrance, and he takes in a few breaths for sinking down on your cock.

Oh.

Now he knows why you like to bottom so much.

The feeling of you, _you_ , filling him up completely as he takes in more and more of you is almost too much for him. He takes you in completely, and relishes in how full he is. Brahms rolls and grinds his hips down, watching you.

Your face is scrunched up, but you’re breathing heavily, and not yet woken up. You make small moans which drive Brahms to lift himself up, and slam back down.

The first few times are rusty, but the fourth is his lucky shot, and you nail him directly in the prostate. Brahms let out a loud, breathy moan, throwing his head back. He fully expects that to pull you out of your sleep, but your face only twitches.

“Yes, yes, yes, oooooh, oh God!” Brahms shouts, fucking himself on you, riding you hard and fast. Normally, he tries to hold out longer, but without you entirely in play, he works himself relentlessly. Brahms doesn’t stroke his own dick, wanting to cum from you, and you alone.

Brahms is about to cum when your eyes finally flutter open halfway, not entirely sure what’s going on except something tight and hot wrapped around your dick, and a solid weight in your lap. “Brahms?” you ask, voice hoarse from sleep.

It’s precisely that which drive him over the edge, shooting cum over your chest and hitting your chin and jaw. He moans your name loudly, and sobs almost pathetically. He squeezes you tight, which sets off your own, hazy orgasm.

Brahms fully collapses on top of you, panting against your cheek. As he shifts, and your cock slips from him, and your cum drips out, he whines. He want to tell him to go get cleaned up when he settles in next to you, clinging tightly, because you don’t want to lean all the cum that’s dripping all over the sheets and bed spread, but you’re already fading back into the haze of medication.

Brahms will just have to figure it out on your own, because he’s definitely getting chores as a punishment for this stunt.

And maybe a proper, rough fucking before you take your pills tomorrow.


End file.
